


Beauty

by shslducktective



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonding, Fluff, Friendship, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, Imprisonment, M/M, Soft Lancelot, Touching, could be canon compliant in the future, lotor is a good guy here, no one will know until season five is released, this takes place after season four
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 07:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12427464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shslducktective/pseuds/shslducktective
Summary: Lance and Lotor bond over beauty routines.





	Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> uh this was supposed to be around a thousand words. i got kinda carried away. i don't know when i started taking lancelot seriously but i'm already pretty invested. so i'm probably gonna end up jumping ships (i don't really multiship because it makes me anxious).
> 
> ..goodbye klance..

 Lance found it unfair. Sure, Prince Lotor was the son of Emperor Zarkon — the head of the despicable Galra Empire and the commanding force behind Planet Altea’s complete and utter obliteration. Yeah, maybe he had lured the paladins of Voltron into a few traps and toyed with their aerial battle skills. But those were all minor details now, weren't they? The Galran Emperor's son had just been publicly disowned by his own father, and now he was asking the paladins of Voltron for their alliance. Circumstances like the ones Lotor was currently under warranted at least a small amount of pity, right? Lance definitely thought so.

 So, why was Prince Lotor currently locked inside one of the Castle of Lion's many prison cells under Shiro’s supervision? Allura had stated that she was willing to  _ consider _ allowing the Galran prince to aid the paladins in their fight against Zarkon if she deemed him trustworthy, but Lance didn't think locking a potential ally — and a powerful one, at that — behind bars was a good idea. And regardless of whether or not it was a good idea, Lotor would be considered a refugee if this crazy war were happening on Planet Earth, wouldn't he? If this were Earth, locking a seemingly peaceful refugee in a cell would be seen as immoral, especially after said refugee had just proposed an alliance.

 No. Lance had to remind himself that this was  _ not _ Planet Earth. In the same way that humanity's limited understanding of time and space had no real meaning here, neither did humanity’s principles of war and other such things. If keeping Lotor in a prison cell was advantageous in defending the universe, it didn't matter whether or not Lance  _ liked _ it. It was for the safety of every innocent creature of every planet in this reality — a precaution that could potentially mean victory against the Galra Empire. But that didn't stop Lance from dwelling on how much he did  _ not _ like the idea. Not one bit.

 It didn't take Lance long to decide that he wanted to take this matter into his own hands. Obviously, he wouldn't try to free the Galran prince. That would be unthinkable. What Lance had in mind was much more subtle. He just hoped that Prince Lotor would appreciate the thought. It took a bit of rummaging around the castle ship before Lance was able to secure the items he wanted, but he was successful. Before the blue paladin could even question the real motive behind his own actions, he was striding down the hall with his arms full of blankets, pillows, drink packets, a hairbrush, and a sleeping mask.

 The prison room was easily the most boring room in the Castle of Lions. While the other rooms certainly weren't very extravagant or elegantly decorated, they possessed a simple beauty that most of those who entered the ship could appreciate. However, there was nothing beautiful about the prison room. The room contained fifty barred cells — cramped cages for prisoners lined side-by-side in five rows of ten. There were two doors in the back of the room. One led to a grungy bathroom, and the other was heavily locked, presumably concealing an emergency arsenal.

 Prince Lotor was being held in the prison cell closest to the wall that opposed the door in the first row of cells. Shiro had brought a swivel chair from one of the other rooms and was seated facing the wall. When Lance entered the prison room, Shiro was using some sort of communication device to talk to someone, probably Allura or Keith. Once Shiro noticed the blue paladin’s presence, he quickly pocketed the communication device and swiveled 180° to face Lance.

 “Hey, Shiro? I was thinking I could take your shift for the night?” Lance suggested, getting straight to the point.

 Shiro studied him for a long while before speaking. Lance felt himself growing sweaty under the black paladin's scrutinizing gaze. Shiro was clearly confused as to what would motivate Lance to take his place in an overnight position that would normally be considered undesirable, but he trusted his teammate. Maybe Lance simply wanted to make himself useful, Shiro figured. So, he decided not to question the fidgeting blue paladin standing in front of him.

 “You sure?” Shiro finally asked. “You don't have do something like this, Lance. I have it covered.”

 Lance shook his head. “I’m sure! I wouldn't have brought all this stuff if I wasn't! You should check up on the others. Without you and that hothead bossing us around, things can get messy, yanno?”

 Keith. Lance was referring to Keith, no doubt. Shiro chuckled, noting that — without realizing it — Lance had given the red paladin credit for keeping the team in order when Shiro wasn't around. The black paladin made a mental note to tell Keith the next time they were able to talk. Learning that  _ Lance _ of all people appreciated his leadership skills would definitely boost his confidence. Maybe it would even be enough to convince him to rejoin Voltron.

 “Fair enough. Keep an eye on the prisoner, alright? I'll send Pidge or Hunk in a few hours to check up on you.”

 Lance saluted playfully, careful not to drop the pile of pillows and blankets he was carrying. “Yes, sir!”

 Shiro chuckled again as he passed the sharpshooter on his way to the door. “Goodnight, Lance.”

 “G’night, Shiro!” Lance responded as Shiro turned the doorknob. Mere seconds later, Shiro had exited the prison room, and the door was closed again.

 Lance, a paladin of Voltron and a defender of the universe, was alone with Prince Lotor, a man who was supposed to be his enemy.

 It felt strangely exhilarating.

 With hesitant steps, Lance approached the prison cell at the end of the row. As he passed the swivel chair that Shiro had left behind, he made sure not to bump into it or trip over the wheels. Once he was in front of Lotor’s cell, he looked into the Galran prince's eyes. Every muscle in his body tensed.

 Prince Lotor was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his cell with his palms on his knees. His silken white hair splayed onto the floor behind him, and his gilded lilac eyes seemed to thorn Lance's very soul. The blue paladin shivered. In all his garrison scuffles with fellow cadets and intergalactic battles against aliens and mechas, he had never been so intimidated while simultaneously feeling so awed. The experience was sort of thrilling, at least while the source of said intimidation and awe was behind bars.

 Lotor was the first to speak.

 “Paladin of blue,” he began, “what is your purpose for coming here and taking your friend's place?”

 His voice was smooth and calm — much more relaxed than any prisoner should sound — but it was sheathed with a menacing edge that seemed to imply that it would be unwise to withhold the answer. Lance wondered how a man behind bars could possibly manage to be so entrancing… or maybe entrancing wasn't the best word. Demanding. Lotor's voice was demanding in a subtle way. Yeah, that was better…

 Despite being intimidated and feeling awed, Lance decided to speak up with his usual confidence. “First off, I have a name! It's Lance.” He paused. “Second off, I took Shiro’s place because I wanted to bring you this stuff.” He extended his arms to indicate the pile of pillows and blankets in his arms.

 Lotor smirked. “Lance,” he corrected himself in addressing the blue paladin, “your concern is greatly appreciated.”

 “It's not concern,” Lance huffed. I just don't agree with everyone else’s decision to keep you locked up after you offered to help us! Sooo, I'm trying to get on your good side.”

 The Galran prince licked his lips. “Interesting. You have no qualms about revealing your true motive.”

 The sharpshooter pursed his own lips and rolled his eyes. “Well, duh! Why would I pretend to care for someone who nearly got us killed?”

 Once those words were spoken, Lotor’s smirk was instantly replaced with a frown. His eyebrows knitted together, and his gaze flashed towards the ground.

 “Clearly, I have misunderstood you humans,” the Galran muttered. “I assumed you would at least have some concern for the person who saved your lives.”

 Lance blinked. Was that… sadness…? Maybe he was just imagining it, but — for a fleeting moment — it really did seem as if Lotor was sad.

 “It's just. I mean. You’re not exactly the kind of person we're eager to trust. But I don't have a problem with you sticking around,” Lance tried to explain.

 If there was any sadness in Lotor's expression, it was gone now, replaced with the usual unreadable expression. “Fair enough. You have a curious method of trying to win a person's favor.”

 “Hey! They say honesty’s the best policy!” the blue paladin retorted, stomping his foot for emphasis.

 Lotor giggled. There was no other way to describe it. His giggle was somehow deep despite being so feminine, but it sounded much lighter than the prince's usual voice. Something about it was charming, and it brought a light dusting of pink to Lance’s cheeks.

 “I do not believe I have ever heard that sentiment before.”

 Lance sighed. “Well, I guess that's not something your old man would've taught you, huh?”

 Lotor's face steeled itself once again. His eyes betrayed a glimpse of inner pain, but Lance just assumed he was seeing things. “No,” the Galran prince responded bitterly, “my father taught me nothing but how not to live.”

 Lance didn't speak for a while after Lotor replied. Instead of furthering the conversation, the blue paladin decided to replay their previous exchanges in his mind and reflect on everything that had been said. He studied the prisoner's features in the silence, but the Galran was clearly keeping any further signs of emotion under wraps.

 “You need not pity me, Lance. I have no qualms with the matter of my misfortune. The Galran Emperor means nothing to me, and that is one thing I am certain will never change.”

 Lance shuddered. The way Prince Lotor spoke — no, sang — his name sent shivers down his spine. No matter how hard Lance tried to push the terrible thought out out his head, he couldn't deny that the Galran’s accent was beautiful. And the calm-but-deadly tone that he used made  _ not  _ being enthralled by him impossible for the sharpshooter.

 Lance found it bitterly ironic that the one standing outside the prison cell was the one who had been captivated.

 The blue paladin knew Lotor was lying through the skin of his fangs. It was plain to see. There was obvious hurt in the prince's eyes when the topic of his father was brought up, and the blank expression he wore was proof that he was masking some kind of emotion underneath. Yet, Lance couldn't bring himself to question the prisoner about it. The sharpshooter was daunted, yes, but he also didn't want to awaken any more distressing memories.

 “Well, uh. I brought you some stuff. Blankets and pillows and stuff,” Lance drawled on lamely. As he struggled to find the right words, a sudden realization hit him like a meteorite. Shiro still had the prison key. “Um, I don't have the key, so I'll have to pass everything through the bars.”

 Prince Lotor nodded and rose to his feet. “That is fine.”

 With Lotor standing, Lance was suddenly aware of the immense height difference between them. The Galran prince towered over Lance, and — even with the prison bars separating them — the sharpshooter was overawed. Somehow, the purplish blue gleam of the Lotor's irises was that much more beautiful when Lance was looking up instead of staring down.

 Forcing himself to look away before Lotor could notice the sharpshooter's flushed cheeks, Lance squatted and set his armload on the ground. After a second of consideration, he grabbed one of the pillows and stood again. Shoving the pillow through the gaps in the prison bars proved to be quite the challenge, but with Lotor pulling on the other end, it wasn't impossible. The second and third pillows were much easier to get through once they had some experience. Next, Lance unfolded the blankets so they would be easier to slide through the gaps. The drink packets posed no issue, so Lance was able to hand them over easily. The only things left were the hairbrush and the sleeping mask.

 “What is that?” Lotor inquired as Lance lifted the hairbrush and sleeping mask off the ground.

 “Wha — this?” Lance asked, waving the brush and straightening his posture.

 “Yes. Is that some sort of sexual instrument?”

 “N-No, you weirdo! It's a hairbrush!” Lance spluttered. If his cheeks were flushed pink before, they were cherry red now. Quiznak, how did he get himself in this situation? What kind of “sexual instruments” did the Galrans use, anyway?

 “A hairbrush? Do you wear it in your hair?”

 “Yeah! Well, no! Not exactly! You don't  _ wear  _ it. You use it to brush your hair. Like, to get rid of the tangles and stuff,” the sharpshooter struggled to explain.

 Lotor giggled again. Lance's blush wasn't going away anytime soon. “Ah. I once encountered an instrument like this 'hairbrush’ of yours. I believe it was called a comb.”

 Lance nodded emphatically. “Yeah, we have those too! You really don't use either of 'em?”

 The Galran prince shook his head. “Of course not. I have no need. My hair does not tangle or knot, so using either would be pointless.”

 Lance's jaw dropped along with the items in his hand. The hairbrush and sleeping mask fell, plastic bristles scraping against the floor. Anyone in their right mind would've been unable to deny that Lotor's hair was the definition of beauty. Astoundingly long, silky, alabaster, and completely free of tangles, the Galran's locks were something to be envied. The fact that Lotor was able to maintain such a treasure without the use of a brush or comb seemed like an impossible feat.

 “Holy crow…”

 Lotor’s face bore an insufferable grin now. Lance hated it. Stupid Galrans and their stupid hair. This was getting to him. The blue paladin put so much effort into his hair and skin care, yet he could never measure up to this level of perfection. It was humiliating.

 “You seem frustrated, Lance. Could it be that you envy me?”

 Quiznak, Lance wanted to slap him right now. Or kiss him. Either would be satisfying.

 “W-Well, yeah! I put a lot of effort into my hair! Having hair  _ that _ pretty without having to work for it is like cosmetically cheating!” Lance whined.

 That was the third time Lotor had giggled during their exchange. It was starting to mess with Lance's head.

 “I never said it was effortless. Come closer, and I will divulge a secret. Since you are akin to me in pursuit of natural beauty, you seem to be deserving of such knowledge.”

 The sharpshooter swallowed hard and tried to steady his breathing. His heartbeat was racing at this point, but he stepped forward, anyway. Lotor also stepped forward, wrapping his long fingers around the prison bars and pressing his face between the gaps.They were only inches apart, and Lance was grateful for the barrier between them. Without it, Lance feared his heart would burst out of his chest from the thrill of proximity.

 What was he going to do? What if Lotor confessed something wild, like using the blood of his enemies to wash his hair? What if this frustratingly gorgeous prince actually tried to touch him? What would —

 “I actually employ the use of various exotic oils and hair soaps to maintain the my hair's natural shine and help it grow. Many of my father's subjects believe me to be a barbarian who does not bother with washing or bathing, but that is an outrageous fallacy.”

 Lance opened his mouth to reply, but he couldn't think of anything worth saying. This entire situation seemed too bizarre to be real. The blue paladin of Voltron was actually having a serious conversation about hair care with Prince Lotor of the Galra Empire. Said prince actually believed that his hair care routine was some sort of exciting secret. In a way, it was.

 Lance McClain was loving every second of this utterly inane conversation. He didn't want it to end.

 “I would like to show you one day, if you would be interested. Perhaps my methods would replace the need for your 'brush,’” Lotor continued.

 The sharpshooter perked up at that. “Y-Yeah! That would be super cool! Maybe I could brush your hair, too? Er —”

 “I would very much enjoy that, Lance.”

 Quiznak. Lance was sweating  _ and _ blushing now. This was bad. If he was a sensible person, he would've backed away and regained his composure by now. But Lance was not a sensible person, so he allowed himself to drown in the moment.

 “Uh, sooo…. Do you space people use face masks?”

 Lotor cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Well, of course we have masks for cultural festivities and secret missions. Some species can morph to disguise their identity, so they have no need for masks, but many us are not so fortunate.”

 “No, no! Not masks like that! Face masks! Like, clay and mud masks. You don’t use those either?”

 “Clay and mud? On your  _ face _ ? That sounds terribly unsanitary,” Lotor pointed out with a twinge of horror. His expression was plainly appalled.

 “It's not!” Lance insisted. “Mud masks make your skin smoother, and clay masks clean your pores. There are other kinds of face masks, too! And it's not like we just use mud from the ground! There are special recipes and formulas and procedures that we follow.”

 Lotor paused to consider Lance's words. After a brief moment, his look of dismay morphed into a bemused smile. "Your species appears to be very concerned with external experiences, hm?"

 The blue paladin started to respond, but Lotor cut him off with another question.

 “May I touch your face? To see if this 'face mask’ of yours really works, of course.”

 Oh, quiznak. This was really happening. 

 “Uh, s-sure, go ahead,” Lance replied. “But only my cheeks, got it?”

 “Understood.”

 Before Lance could brace himself, Lotor's fingers were gently pressed against his cheekbones. The sharpshooter could only hope that Galrans weren't sensitive to heat, because the blue paladin's cheeks were burning with embarrassment. If Lotor caught on, he was screwed. Thankfully, the prince only smiled kindly as he continued to move his fingers and palms along the sides of Lance's face.

 “May I touch your ears?”

 Lance wasn't expecting that.

 “N-No!” he squeaked impulsively. “What does that have to do with face masks, anyway?”

 “Nothing,” Lotor answered truthfully, pulling his hands away from Lance's face. “I merely find your ears fascinating.”

 Lance snorted. “If you think they're hideous, just say so. It's what Allura said at one point, so it's not I haven't heard it before from an alien.”

 The Galran prince frowned. There was a trace of sadness in his eyes again. “I would never think such a thing, Lance. I  _ like  _ your ears.”

 Lance's ears and face were scarlet now.

 “Oh.” That was all the flustered paladin could manage to say at first. “I-In that case, you can touch 'em, I guess. Just don't let me catch you making fun of me later.”

 Lotor's eyebrows furrowed. He looked directly into Lance's eyes and agreed, “Of course. If you want me to stop, please tell me.”

 “Okay.” Lance gulped. Seconds later, Lotor's fingers were tracing the shell of his earlobe.

 “They are... very round.”

 “Uh, yeah. Human ears are like that,” the sharpshooter commented lamely.

 Lotor's fingers didn't stay on Lance's ears for very long. In less than a minute, the Galran prince's hands were cupping the sides of Lance's face again.

 “I know not if this is the result of your 'face masks,’ but I must say that your skin is impeccably smooth,” Lotor observed. “I am familiar with a product similar to these masks of yours, a cream of sorts. Instead of mud or clay, the cream is made of fruit juice and plant residue. The recipe is rather simple, and I have found the cream to be beneficial.”

 Lance smiled once an idea crossed his mind. “Hey, maybe we could ask Coran or Hunk if we have any of the ingredients! We could make our own face cream! That would be super cool!”

 “Indeed.” Lotor let his hands fall to his sides again. “May I ask one more question, Lance?”

 “Go shoot.”

 “Would you stay with me until the others decide on more… permanent living quarters for me? If they ever make such a decision, that is. I find your company much more enjoyable than the company of the other paladins.”

 The blue paladin beamed. His heartbeat was still racing, but it was a pleasurable feeling now. “Sure thing. It's fun talking to you… Lotor?”

 The prince nodded. “Lotor is fine.”

 Lance scratched the back of his head and glanced away. “Uh, thank you, then. Lotor.”

 Lotor blinked. “Why are you thanking me?”

 “I dunno. I wanted to thank you for saving us, I guess. No one's bothered to do that until now, so I felt like I should. Maybe you aren't such a bad person like everyone thought you are.”

 Lotor's smile was soft, and something about his eyes grew unusually warm. “No, thank you, Lance. Thank you for showing me hospitality when none of your friends bothered to do so.”

 Lance returned the soft smile and took Lotor's hands through the gaps between the prison bars. The prince let out a quiet gasp at this sudden action.

 “I'm gonna convince everyone to like you. Some of 'em can seem kinda harsh, but they'll warm up to you. I'm not gonna let ‘em push you around, though. You can trust me.”

 Lotor nodded slowly and squeezed the blue paladin’s hands. In that moment, everything in the universe felt right. As the prince and Lance faced each other, hand in hand, beholding each other with mirrored smiles, the war and all its problems seemed like mere stars twinkling in the distance. Something new — something much warmer and brighter than a distant star — was growing between them, and neither could wait to see where it would lead them. As the Galran prince and Voltron’s sharpshooter basked in the light of their newly forged friendship, they couldn't help but wonder if the real beauty they had been seeking was right before their eyes.


End file.
